Friday Night
by turkeyish
Summary: Ginny finds out what she's been missing out on when she ventures into a Muggle nightclub.


**A/N:**

There just so happens to be a mini playlist of sorts that accompanies this fic - the songs that infused me with this plot and so conveyed the aura that I was aiming for, that I looped them over and over again as I wrote. And when I say mini, I _mean_ mini.  

For the club scene: 

I Know - Jay-Z  

For "The Talk": 

Music for Love - Mario

Thank you, **elyaeru**, for the amazing beta job.

**Friday Night**

It took her eyes a while to adjust to the darkness. It was just past midnight, but the bright, white lights that blazed in the doorway to the nightclub had made it seem as though it was broad daylight, especially compared to this. She paused as she waited for her friend to finish paying their entrance fees, deeply breathing in the heavy smoke that curled in serpentine clouds around the heads of the innumerable dancers.

"What do you think?"

She turned her head to the right, towards the smooth voice, as she felt a hand rest lightly and reassuringly at the small of her back. Looking back out at the action, a small smile curled her lips.

"It's…interesting," she allowed, refusing to give him any reason to gloat.

"Come on, Weasley," her friend said as he waved a graceful hand at the scene sprawled out before them. "It's fucking fantastic. Admit it."

"Really, Zabini." Ginny laughed. "I just don't see what all the fuss is about."

But Blaise merely rolled his eyes, refusing to allow anything to dampen his enthusiasm.

"It's been a long week, Gin," he said, a note of excitement marring the usually languorous tone, as he caught her hand in his own. "Let's get it on."

Ginny couldn't help but shake her head in mock exasperation as she allowed herself to be dragged out into the sea of bodies.

It had been a long week, indeed. Writing for _The Quibbler_ was no easy task – for all the rumours and speculation that had flown around during their Hogwarts days about one Luna Lovegood, who knew that she would end up playing the role of militant magazine editor to perfection, not two years later? Not that Ginny Weasley or Blaise Zabini would have complained. The recognition they both received while affiliated with their old schoolmate's lauded publication was good, and the pay was even better. But elections for a new Minister of Magic were coming up, and Luna had her entire staff on their toes covering it. Ginny would have put ten Galleons on the fact that she hadn't slept more than three hours in one go for the past two weeks.

"Blaise!" Ginny shouted in order to make herself heard above the cacophony of noise as her friend pulled her deeper and deeper into the crowd, closer and closer to the DJ and the tall, black speakers vibrating with the force of the thundering music.

Blaise paused, turning to look at her questioningly.

"Yes?"

"Did you remember to show Luna the photos you took at the last debate?"

Blaise merely stared at her, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was being jostled slightly by the exuberance of the surrounding dancers.

Shaking his head, he suddenly switched his course, fighting the swell of the crowd as he made his way laboriously back towards where they had just been standing a few minutes prior.

Ginny felt slightly hopeful. Were they going back home? She couldn't wait to get into her flannel pyjamas.

She was sorely disappointed, however, when he veered slightly to the right and they finally ended up at the crowded bar.

"Two shots of tequila, please," Blaise barked out at a bartender. Satisfied that his order was being carried out, he leant back against the bar and surveyed the people as he waited, looking more like a content club owner and less like a mere patron.

Mimicking his movements, Ginny tried to see what so appealed to her friend. To say she had been surprised when Blaise Zabini, of all people, had invited her to accompany him on an excursion to a nightclub in the heart of Muggle London was a massive understatement. She had been flabbergasted. She had then become bewildered when he had informed her that he made it out to that same nightclub nearly every weekend. When she had asked him what was so great about the experience, he had merely grinned that grin that made every other witch weak in the knees (well, except for Ginny, and he had a sneaking suspicion that Luna only spun away from him after every one of his infamous grins because she was fighting a blush), and promised her that she would see soon enough.

"I promise, you'll love it," he had said at the time.

"Relax, will you?" he muttered now into her ear. Downing one of the shots, he held the other out to her, sighing when she wrinkled her nose at the proffered drink.

"Come on, it'll help," he coaxed.

"Help? If I need alcohol to enjoy this, should I even be here in the first place?" Ginny wondered aloud. To her credit, she did take the shot, however grudgingly. She grimaced at the feel of the unfamiliar alcohol burning a swathe of oesophageal destruction down her throat.

Blaise ignored her theatrical shudder and faced her towards the dance floor again.

"Now look," he commanded.

Perhaps it was the alcohol, coupled with the fact that Ginny's tolerance wasn't so great these days (she blamed her ridiculous work schedule). But as she stared out at the club patrons, she couldn't help but find her surroundings more intriguing than she had when she'd first entered. All of the women were in sky-high heels, mini skirts, and barely-there tops. The men were all ridiculously beautiful, and Ginny thought to herself that maybe she ought to accompany Blaise on his outings more often. And the music – Ginny was in love. She had never really listened to Muggle music before, but this was fantastic. The beats were heavy and insistent, pounding repeatedly through her tequila-filled veins. The floor vibrated along with the bass beneath her feet, and she felt as though her heart was attempting to leap out of her chest, in perfect time with the music. The dance floor was blanketed with gyrating individuals. Whereas Ginny in any other setting might have found the sexual overtones of the dancing awkward, here she thought it was absolutely perfect.

"I want to do what they're doing," she said as she turned back to Blaise.

The new gleam in her eyes made him chuckle.

"As the lady wishes," he said, shoving another drink into her hand and holding his own up.

"To Friday night," he toasted, touching his glass to hers with a loud clink.

"To Friday night," Ginny echoed, grinning recklessly as she felt the alcohol spill smoothly down her throat.

--

Ginny felt _amazing_. Her legs burned more than they ever had after any high-energy workout that Blaise periodically forced her to suffer through for lack of another pushover friend, tendrils of her hair were plastered uncomfortably to the back of her neck and the sides of her face with perspiration, she was breathing in so much second-hand smoke that she was sure to develop emphysema by the end of the night, and surely the press of the half-naked bodies moving around her was breaking some sort of universal law about personal space.

But none of that mattered.

"You're sure you've never done this before?" Blaise asked, the smirk in his voice evident as he shot a wink at a stunning brunette dancing suggestively a few feet away from him.

Ginny merely laughed as she moved her hips first to the left, and then to the right, throwing her head back, exulting in the feel of her long curls brushing her exposed skin. It was nearly sinful, the way she felt. Gorgeous men had been asking her to dance all night, and while she was still unused to the level of attention that she was being exposed to tonight, she wouldn't have traded it in for anything – it made her feel gloriously sexy and powerful.

"Very nice, Weasley," an appreciative voice said in her ear. An appreciative, _female_ voice.

Blaise laughed at the bewildered look on Ginny's face.

"Pansy!" he managed to get out between his chuckles. "I thought you were out of the country?"

"Back early, darling," Pansy Parkinson answered as she danced closer to Blaise.

Twirling around, she pulled Ginny nearer to her and matched their movements, Blaise at her back.

"Don't worry, Weasley, I don't bite," she said as her lips twisted up into a leer.

Ginny shrugged, never ceasing her dancing.

"Go easy on me, Pans, I'm just an innocent virgin," she shot back.

At that, Blaise snorted, Pansy laughed, and Ginny shot both of them dark looks. She was having too much fun to feel disgruntled for long though, and soon the club-goers around them were moving back, leaving Blaise, Pansy, and Ginny with plenty of room in which to manoeuvre. The drums of the music increased in volume, the lush rhythms pounding incessantly as the three friends ground closer and closer together. Appreciative whistles came from the watching crowd, all aimed at the trio of dancers focused solely on each other and the music – tall, charismatic Blaise, voluptuous, dark-haired Pansy, and fiery, lithe Ginny.

Suddenly, an errant thought came to Ginny.

"How's the new marketing campaign going?" she asked Pansy as they wound slowly around each other.

Pansy shot her a horrified look, straightening suddenly and ceasing her movements.

A few male voices boo'd at this new development.

"Take it off!" one yelled, his buddies laughing raucously.

Pansy made a rude gesture without even deigning to search out the face of the voice.

"Jesus, Weasley, are you asking me about work while we're dancing in a _club_?" she asked, sounding disbelieving.

"Ginny, you need more tequila," Blaise interjected before Ginny could answer.

"I do not!" she huffed, even as she followed her friends off of the dance floor, back towards the bar.

--

"Okay, maybe I did," she conceded, four shots later.

She missed the amused glances that Pansy and Blaise exchanged with each other as she hiccupped softly and giggled to herself.

"Drunk, are we, Ginevra?" The amusement in the voice was tangible, and the warmth of the breath along her neck made her shiver, just the tiniest bit.

She glowered at her friends as they began to slowly edge their way back into the dancing crowd, but they merely smirked a distinctly Slytherin brand of smirk at her, nodding their greetings at the newcomer before disappearing completely.

Sighing, Ginny turned to face the cool voice.

"Hello, Malfoy," she said, tilting her head up at the much-taller man in front of her. She took in the way his rolled-up sleeves set off the finely corded muscles of his forearms. She'd never seen him dressed so casually. The only thing that indicated money about him tonight was his unconsciously elegant posture – his outfit was a monochromatic palette of black. He wasn't even wearing a tie.

"What are you doing here, Weasley?" Draco drawled lazily – though there was an underlying note of good-natured humour there that Ronald Weasley certainly never got to hear. "I didn't notice any bureaus within the immediate vicinity."

"I like clubs. A lot," Ginny said with a scowl. "In fact, I come here all the time."

"Is that a fact?"

Ginny merely made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat. Draco chuckled as he signalled to the bartender.

"I'm here because Parkinson kept weeping about not having seen me for ages," he informed Ginny as he slid a new drink towards her.

"I care because?" Ginny asked with an impish smile, sipping slowly on the cocktail.

Draco's quicksilver eyes darkened as he watched her full, nude lips pulling on the cherry-red straw.

"I was just hoping you'd satiate my…curiosity," he said in a low voice, never taking his eyes off of Ginny.

She blushed underneath his gaze, both hating herself for being so obviously affected, and pleased that he might not be completely immune to her charms.

"It's all Blaise's doing, of course. He thinks I don't get out enough, or something," she said with an exaggerated pout, sighing in distress when she reached the end of her drink.

"That was tasty, what was it?" she asked curiously.

"Cranberry and vodka," Draco informed her, "though the way you imbibed it, it might as well have been water."

He downed the rest of his drink – "whisky," he stated in response to her questioning look. He slammed his empty glass on the wooden surface of the bar, and gently took hers to set it down as well, grabbing her hand.

"Err, Malfoy?" Ginny managed to squeak out as she struggled to keep up with his longer strides. Her hand felt impossibly fragile held within his. "What are you doing?"

Draco turned his head back towards the sound of her voice without missing a beat, and the easygoing grin he flashed at her made her wonder for a moment if she'd had too much to drink – it was suddenly that much harder to breathe, and her knees felt wobbly.

"We," he stated calmly, spinning her around, "are dancing." He pulled her flush against his hard body, and she gasped at the impact.

"Together," he added, almost as an afterthought. His eyes, if possible, were darker than they had been only two minutes ago, the mercury barely glinting beneath hooded eyelids.

Full of alcohol or not, Ginny felt light-headed, being this close to the Malfoy heir. Sure, they got on well enough these days – Draco was Harry Potter's Auror partner, and the latter had convinced everyone that Malfoy "wasn't so bad once you got to know him, really, not to mention the fact that he hurls a mean hex" – but a friendly chat every now and then surely didn't constitute this level of physical contact now. Not that she was necessarily complaining. Draco Malfoy was undeniably attractive – a fact she'd been fully aware of even during their Hogwarts days. Now, the overwhelming pull of her attraction to him settled low in her belly, a simmering heat that she wasn't entirely sure had anything at all to do with either tequila or vodka.

"Don't worry, Ginevra," Draco drawled, rolling her name around in his mouth like a polished gem, "I don't bite."

"That's what Pansy said," Ginny managed to stammer out with a nervous laugh.

Draco's teeth shone an impossible white underneath the low lights of the club. With a jolt, Ginny looked around her, remembering that while they were unmoving, standing so close to each other that she could have curled her fingers in the silver strands at the nape of his neck, the other patrons continued to flit around them, buffeted by the perpetual waves of the melodies and the irresistible currents of the harmonies.

"Well, not unless you ask nicely."

Ginny's eyes flickered back to Draco's face, and what she saw there made her toes curl in her stiletto pumps. She smiled softly, moving forward into his arms. He stiffened almost imperceptibly at this, but reached his arms out and drew her tighter towards him when he realized she really wasn't going to run away in fright.

Ginny decided that she liked the feel of Draco Malfoy's capable hands resting almost possessively on her hips. A lot.

And then they began to move. Blaise had nothing on Draco's grace. He was all sinuousness and firmness, the planes of his body fitting neatly into the curves of hers. He guided Ginny as they danced, making her feel as though she'd been missing out on too much this entire time. The music never let up, always pushing them closer and closer together. Draco didn't make a move without bringing her with him, and the heat of their mingled breath threatened to cause Ginny to spontaneously combust. The weight of Draco's gaze was heady, and made her feel utterly delicious. She was incredibly aware of the tensile strength in his hands, and she closed her eyes as she tried to meld her entire self with his.

When she bent over in front of him daringly and slowly brought herself back up, her hands tangled in her own hair, her eyes closed in bliss at the incredible feel of him against her, the low groan that Draco let out was positively feral, and the almost imperceptible tightening of his fingers riding low on her hips made Ginny smile to herself with a kind of feline satisfaction that she'd never had the chance to feel before.

Draco didn't miss her lips curve up into a smile, and chuckled softly as he pressed a single kiss to the side of her exposed neck.

"What's so funny, Ginevra?" he asked, skimming his hand along her arm.

"Nothing," she said as she turned to face him once more, giving in to her earlier desire and sifting her fingers through his hair. She stared up at his face, marvelling at the finely wrought features. She rolled her bottom lip around between her teeth, pausing when Draco let out another agonized groan.

"What?" she asked innocently.

"Do you have any idea how sexy you are?" Draco asked, pressing his forehead against hers in a sweet way that set her heart pounding even faster than it already was. She was sure he could hear it.

"You're only saying that because of the dress," Ginny said in a faux-solemn tone.

Stepping away from her slightly, but always keeping a hold on her hands, Draco ran his eyes up and down her full frame. His gaze took in the heels, the dress that left her legs and shoulders bare, and the tousled red hair. Ginny flushed once more underneath his perusal. Draco smiled down at her as he pulled her back towards him.

"It's a very nice dress," he informed Ginny as they swayed to the slower music that was now playing.

Ginny sighed as she tucked her head beneath Draco's chin.

"However," he continued, touching warm lips to her hair, "I have to admit, I've found you alluring for quite a while now."

Ginny stilled, snapping her head up to get a better look at her dancing partner.

"Fucking hell!" Draco exclaimed.

Ginny stared in horror as he gingerly massaged his chin, wincing slightly as he felt out the extent of the damage.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" Ginny babbled, reaching out to touch his face.

"Yes, I'm fine," Draco grumbled good-naturedly, dragging her against him again.

"Just go easy next time you look up, your head's like a small boulder," he teased.

Ginny stuck her tongue out, only to be met with a liquid mercury gaze that was shot through with an unnameable something she could feel tingling in her own blood.

"So," she said, making up her mind in a split-second, and pressing her entire length against his, so that he could feel every inch of her, "you were saying?"

Draco tilted his head down towards her. Ginny's eyes slid shut when she felt the weight of his lips like a feather against the corner of her mouth.

"Since sixth year," he breathed, his lips sliding down, down, down to her neck.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Ginny gasped out, as his mouth ghosted along her shoulder. Her fingers dug into the spun silk of the blond head, urging him on.

"Biding my time," Draco answered against her collarbone, grinning when it was she who let out a low moan this time.

"And now's the time?" Ginny managed to breathe as she pulled him back up to her and cupped his face gently in her hands.

"It's up to you," Draco answered. The look in his eyes made Ginny's heart begin to stutter in 6/8 time, double the tempo of the music winding sinuously in the air around them.

Abruptly, she shoved him away from her.

"Why didn't you do anything!" Ginny half yelled, jabbing an accusing finger into his chest.

Draco stared at her.

"What are you, schizophrenic?" he asked with a smirk.

Ginny growled, but the smirk only widened.

"All we've ever talked about before now is the Quidditch, or how much of a prat Ron is, or how deaf Harry is," she said in a quieter tone. Draco had to lean towards her to hear her over the club's noise.

"It was a…self-preservation sort of mechanism," Draco explained delicately.

Ginny just stared impassively.

Sighing, Draco grabbed her hand and towed her along at a rapid pace.

"Malfoy! Gin!" Blaise's voice carried over the dance floor, reminding Ginny that he was, after all, still very much alive, rather than drowned in a pool of his own vomit.

When Draco and Ginny reached their friends, Ginny couldn't help but let out a snicker as an irate Pansy stumbled underneath the weight of an extremely drunk Blaise.

"I'm taking this plebeian home, and then I'm getting in bed, possibly for forever," Pansy informed Draco and Ginny in a short tone.

"Do you need any assistance?" Draco offered, though he made no move to break his grasp on Ginny's hand and help Pansy.

"No." She sighed, just as Blaise grabbed at one of her breasts. "I think I can manage to fend off his advances for now."

She slapped the wayward hand. Blaise whimpered pathetically, but Pansy just rolled her eyes in disgust.

"You," she said, nodding at Draco, "take care of her," indicating Ginny with a tilt of her head.

"And you," Pansy continued without drawing a breath, and pinning Ginny with a fierce glare, "don't fuck it up."

Ginny goggled at the other woman, opening her mouth to ask what the hell that meant, but Pansy shook her head adamantly.

"Sort it out tonight, you two, I've got some serious money riding on this," she muttered, beginning to drag the paralytic Blaise towards the exit.

Ginny stared at the retreating forms of her friends, disbelieving.

"Have I just been prostituted away?" she wondered aloud.

Draco kissed her knuckles lingeringly, making her forget any indignation she should have been feeling.

"I may have bribed them into helping me tonight," he admitted with an oddly weak smile as he tugged her the same way Pansy and Blaise had gone.

The cool night air was a welcome change to the cloistered feel of the interior of the nightclub. Ginny's ears continued to ring slightly as they recalled the too-loud music. She wondered perhaps if she was hearing things now, as Draco spoke.

"I'm sorry," she said, coming to a halt in the middle of the empty alley that the club's exit opened out to. "You what?"

Draco shot her a look again, but this time it was unfathomable, the intense slate of his eyes making her pause.

"You'll think I'm mad," he said flatly.

"Try me," Ginny said slowly, wary now.

"Do you trust me?"

Ginny blinked at this random turn in the conversation.

"Yes?"

"Good enough for me." Draco pulled her against his chest, spinning tightly on the spot before Ginny could react.

--

When Ginny opened her eyes, she gasped.

"Welcome to Wiltshire," Draco announced with a slightly rueful smile that tugged at her defences.

"Well, we're certainly not in London anymore," Ginny replied, gazing at her new surroundings.

Draco laughed as she disentangled herself from his arms in order to explore the enormous Malfoy library.

"I was watching you all night," he said suddenly, conversationally.

Ginny fumbled with the heavy, leather-bound tome she had just pulled out.

"You what?" she gasped, for the second time that night.

"Mmm," Draco confirmed, casually leaning against a shelf, facing her.

There was a fire going on in the large fireplace; the flicker of the flames illuminated the slumberous grace of his noble features and his every precise movement.

"Why," Ginny began, but the word came out as a croak. Clearing her throat, she tried again. "Why were you…watching me?"

"Potter was right," Draco mumbled to himself, catching Ginny off guard.

"What?"

Draco sighed and ran a finger through his hair. It stuck up in spikes, held by the sweat of the evening's previous exertions.

Ginny thought idly that the mussed look looked better on him than it did on anyone else.

"Look, I've messed this up already—"

"No!" Ginny said forcefully.

Draco, who had just begun to pace in front of the fireplace, ceased and looked at her with faint bemusement.

"I mean," Ginny amended at her normal volume, "you can't not tell me, now."

Draco's eyes brightened from the stormy grey that it had been since before they'd left the nightclub, and he let out a pleased-sounding laugh.

_Do I do this to him_? Ginny wondered as she studied this Draco, who was so far removed from the Draco of their shared Hogwarts days. Even the Auror Draco that she spoke to every so often was always so polite and courteous and just a little bit too cool, too unaffected.

She closed her eyes when Draco stepped closer to her once more, blindly breathing in the smoky scent of him. She shivered in delight when she felt his fingertips at the side of her neck, and her breath caught when his hand slid into her hair, tilting her head up. Opening her eyes only slightly, afraid to break the spell of his close proximity, she found him staring intently at her, his fascinating eyes absorbing her every feature in a way that should have been embarrassing, but was merely gratifying. The rough pad of his thumb brushed once, twice, over her bottom lip, and his own eyes slid shut as he leaned down towards her. For what felt like hours, she could feel, even with her eyes shut again, him hovering just out of her reach. The anticipation was steadily building up to a crescendo that made her heart ache.

She refused to let her deep dejection show when she perceived a new, unwelcome distance forming between them – Draco was pulling her to sit beside him on a low settee that faced the jet marble of the fireplace.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked her, ever the gentleman.

Ginny glowered, mercilessly shoving aside her insane urge to jump him.

"Stop trying to get me drunk—"

"What?"

"—so that I pass out—"

"I'd nev—"

"—and let you off the hook," she finished in a huff. She added another patented Weasley glower, just in case.

Draco took her hand and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the centre of her palm, smiling against her flushed flesh as she sighed at the unbearably sexy feel of his breath on her.

"I just thought you'd like to get comfortable," he said, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Wouldn't want you to swoon too hard when I sweep you off your feet."

"Ah." Ginny raised an eyebrow in a fair imitation of him. "Is that what you're fumbling at here?"

Draco growled in response, and Ginny had to admit that his was far more frightening than hers, as she suddenly found herself cornered against a brocade arm of the settee, Draco looming over her, and not unwelcomingly. He radiated heat, and it was making Ginny's head spin.

"You might want to remove your knickers," Draco drawled, nipping playfully at her neck, "as I expect you'll feel compelled to toss them at me sometime within the next twenty minutes."

And just as suddenly as he'd come at her, he was sitting a respectable distance away once more, looking as unruffled as a Malfoy was capable of. It took Ginny a few moments to calm her sporadic breathing.

"Right."

Draco licked his lips suggestively, then winked when Ginny gaped at him.

"Sorry," he said, not sounding very apologetic at all. "I'll behave."

Ginny peered at him from underneath her eyelashes.

"Just for now," she whispered, throwing her head back and laughing when Draco became visibly flummoxed.

A beat passed, and then another. In the low light, Draco and Ginny studied each other silently, drinking each other in with large, thirsty gulps.

Little did they know that while neither was sure what was happening tonight, both were thrilled at the possibilities, each consumed with the thought of the other, both intoxicated by their nearness.

Draco broke the silence first, his smooth baritone nudging at Ginny's core.

"Potter told me to just be myself," Draco began, "and I didn't believe him."

Ginny opened her mouth, but Draco held up a hand in a silent plea. The deep and unsteady breath that he took caused her to melt into quiet submission.

"I was a bastard when I was at Hogwarts. Do you remember when we first met? In Diagon Alley, before my second year started? I treated you just like any other Weasley."

At Ginny's indignant look, he merely grinned that lightning grin once more. His eyes flashed with the reflection of the flickering flames.

"I have to admit, I didn't think of you much for the first few years. Sure, your hair was a nicer shade of red than your brothers – it has gold strands running through it." Here he broke off and gently tugged on her hair, winding one of her curls around a long finger. "But you were in love with Potter the entire time, and even if I'd contemplated attempting it, nothing would have pulled you away from him.

"And then when you moved on from old Scarhead," he went on with a faint smirk, "it was to Thomas, or to that Hufflepuff whose name I can't remember, and don't care to recall.

"When the Dark Lord fell, you were still Potter's." Draco's eyes were dark, piercing.

"But we broke up not long after!" Ginny said hotly, flushing furiously as she remembered her past, failed relationships, and thought of the possibilities she could have made happen, if only she hadn't been so _blind_.

"Yes, but then there was that Creevey kid, and then famous Oliver Wood for a while," Draco pointed out calmly. "God knows your brother never stopped complaining at the top of his lungs about your latest conquest."

Ginny couldn't help it – she sulked.

"Ginevra." Her name poured forth from Draco's aristocratic mouth like honeyed wine. "What good would it have done, even if I had said anything? You abhorred me for the longest time.

"You cast that foul curse on me." Draco paused and shuddered with the memory.

Ginny grinned widely.

Pointedly ignoring her, Draco continued, though the traces of a smile lingered on his lips.

"Maybe I'm a masochist, but I couldn't help myself after that. You angered me at first. I began to think up ways to exact my revenge. In order to do this, I had to watch you. Evaluate you. Your strengths, your weaknesses. Your habits. I am, after all, the consummate Slytherin. But after years of you flitting around Hogwarts just out of my range, I saw you. Noticed you. Your walk is so distinct – so sure, so full of an awkward sort of grace that's better than any other girl's affected poses. I saw the way your eyes turn molten when you're either immensely pleased or furiously angry. The way you run your fingers through your hair. The way you speak, the way you fly on a broom."

Draco paused for a moment, the silver of his eyes sparking with some faraway memory.

"When I became Potter's Auror partner," he continued, "it became clear that the dubious privilege meant the unexpected boon and simultaneous curse of your constant presence. You'd grown up while I was making a name for myself, separate from what my father had forced on me – had a career, a life, too many men running after you. And you should have hated me for what I was, for the way I'd treated you. But you didn't. You're so good, so trusting, and so when Potter said I was worthy of your attention, you threw yourself into that. Finally having an actual conversation with you was better than my wildest imagination could have hoped for.

"But you weren't for me," Draco said, his face shadowed with a pain that left Ginny's reminiscences sobered. "Not for a Slytherin, the son of the man who came so close to ruining your life, a near Death Eater myself. I thought – and still do think – that you deserve better. I could never say anything because of this. It was like some sort of deep-seated fear that I would ruin you with my touch or my influence. I had to preserve you from the harm I could inflict upon you, in order to preserve myself. You drove me mad, Ginevra."

"So why are you telling me this now?" Ginny asked, her voice barely audible.

"Ah. Well after you left each time you visited us – Potter, I should say, I just happened to make sure I was in the right place at the right time – I was…different. And well, we're Aurors for a reason. He noticed."

"Harry's nothing if not perceptive," Ginny said fondly.

Draco smirked.

"Yes, well. He wrestled me to the ground when I refused to speak up, performed Legilimens on me, the speccy bastard, and found out that I felt the way I did. Typical behaviour of the common Death Eater – not funny, really, I felt violated like I'd never felt since that awkward incident with Nott in third year - don't ask, I worked hard for years to shove the memory to the dustiest corner of my subconscious."

Abruptly, Ginny shut her mouth, although she looked fit to burst with her curiosity.

"As I was saying," Draco continued calmly, "interfering prick that he is, he decided to lecture me on love. I don't know where he gets off lecturing others about love, it took him years of wanking over Granger to pluck up the courage to ask her out.

"'But Malfoy,' he said, 'trust me, you don't want to let someone like that just go without even trying.'

"But while I'm no Death Eater, I'm no Potter, either." Draco grinned crookedly as he stared at a spot just over Ginny's head.

"I'm materialistic. I'm mean. I'm not what you need. And so I had this new plan all formulated in my mind, where I got Blaise to get you to a club, and Pansy pretended to drag me along, and then we'd meet, and dance, and I'd be the charming Malfoy heir that all the ladies love, and I'd bring you here, and we'd make loud, passionate love until the early hours of the morning, perhaps even straining a muscle here or there with the exertion, and then we'd fall asleep in each other's arms, and I'd surprise you with breakfast in bed – not that I can cook, but I'd get a house-elf to do the job admirably and pass off his work as my own – and then I'd complain about your brothers eventually and you'd have a retort about my ridiculous wardrobe instantly ready but the makeup sex would be superb.

"And, desperate man that I am, I ran the plan by Potter. After laughing long and hard at me for a full ten minutes, he came up with this little nugget of advice gold:

"'Just be yourself. And I've told her time and time again that she doesn't need to visit as often as she does, but she never listens – I'm sure, what with our being just friends, that it's not entirely because of me.'

"Thus, here I sit, playing the part of a bleeding Gryffindor."

The corners of Ginny's mouth twitched when Draco's loud gulp for fresh air indicated he was finally done.

"Well," she murmured, looking down at her hands, which lay, interlocked, in her lap, "that was certainly enlightening."

Draco eyed her warily, and Ginny's heart swelled as she marvelled at the fact that he really was putting his entire self on the line for her.

"You know," she said, "I've been over Harry for a very long time. And he was the most important of all my relationships."

Draco nodded slowly.

"And despite what Ron says, I actually haven't dated anyone since I've been visiting you at work."

Draco's face was a mask, save the nerve working in his jaw.

"And I like that you're not some angel," Ginny said softly. "God knows they're nice and all, but they're also boring. Who wants boring?

"You're sarcastic with me, and you still poke fun at my hair or at my family every now and then, but you also don't complain when I try to give as good as I get. I appreciate that. You don't treat me like a doll." Ginny made a face. "Everyone else treats me like I'm a doll."

"I don't want to hurt you, Ginevra," Draco said, slowly.

"And I like that you call me Ginevra. Actually, I like when you call me anything, it all sounds good," Ginny said as though she hadn't heard him.

"I'm not fragile, Draco," Ginny continued as she smiled at him. "I can make my own choices. I made the choice to continue visiting, to continue speaking to you, to dance with you tonight, to come with you here."

She stood suddenly, moving to kneel on the floor between his legs.

"I like you – a lot," she stated, taking his hand and holding it up to her heart.

Draco stared at her for a long moment, his gaze never wavering from her face.

"Well, so long as we both know where we stand," he said, voice low and uncharacteristically brittle with suppressed emotion.

And then, finally, he kissed her.

He was fierce as he kissed her, though his lips were pliable, infinitely gentle, as her own mouth yielded so eagerly beneath his. And he was channelling every inch of himself into her, it seemed, just as a violinist pours every millimetre of his soul into the blacks and whites of quarter notes strewn on stanzas. His silent yearnings, the yearly suffering, the bottomless well of his previously untapped wants and desires – all of it was making his very blood sing, and it beckoned to her as well, compelling and seductive. Everything was balanced on a precipice, clearly illuminated against the velvet backdrop of the backs of his closed eyelids. On top of the cliff was a life without Ginny, safe, predictable, stable; over the edge lay the brambles of the unknown. But over the edge also lay the spark that was Ginny.

Ginny could not believe that this moment was hers to live, hers to hold within her arms. Everything within her strained towards him, this man who had come into her life and transformed it without her permission, without her knowledge.

With a gasp, Ginny broke contact, leaning back to gaze at Draco.

"What's wrong?" he asked, gently encasing her face in the security of his hands even as he moved unconsciously towards her again, as unwilling as she was to be apart for longer than was necessary. Not now, not when the burn of whatever it was they had was still so new and electrifying.

"Nothing," she said with a small smile. "Against all the odds, absolutely nothing."

Draco smiled back, and Ginny's heart clenched with the beauty of it. Here was everything she'd needed, even before she'd known it for herself. Here was a world of possibility.

"Your knickers off yet?" he murmured against her lips.

And then he kissed her again.

_Fin._

**A/N:**

I hope you enjoyed this, please review. :)


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